Off Course
by Inky the Bird
Summary: When things start off differently on Harry's way to the wizarding world, his first year goes a little off course. Beginning of an HD series! Filler Story!
1. On Privet Drive

_Hey! I'm starting this story over again because Harry was way too much of a wimp! You better enjoy this, because I'm putting a lot of work into it! There will be many boring, familiar scenes in this first part, I warn you, but it is mandatory that you read them if you want to understand. I may be changing some appearances, too (don't worry! Not anyone REALLY important's), so don't point out stuff like that! Thanks!_

**NOTE: I do not own anything out of the Harry Potter book and movie series. The first two paragraphs are THE SAME AS THE ONES IN THE BOOKS, but that is only because they're the only way I really can start this series over again. So they're not my paragraphs, and neither are the characters and everything. I'll tell you if I own a person (I don't think I'll make one, don't worry). And this goes for all chapters, by the way.**

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde, and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy elsewhere.

Unfortunately, though, Dudley Dursley was actually the most spoiled boy ever to be raised. He had everything he could have ever wanted, and was already twice the average weight a baby boy his age should be. The Dursleys happily ignored these facts and continued to pamper him.

Yes, they were indeed the most ordinary family on the block by the looks of them. But appearances aren't always correct. You see, Mr and Mrs Dursley hid a very great secret from everyone that existed in their lives, and even tried to forget it themselves. If anyone found out about the _other_ side of the family, they wouldn't know what to do.

The Potters were, in their opinion, the most horrible sort that could exist. They were completely unlike the Dursleys in every way. Mrs Dursley didn't want Dudley to mix with their son, Harry, and the two families wouldn't get along very well, anyway. That was why they hadn't invited them over for the last couple of years – the Potters just weren't normal.

When Privet Drive awoke on the cold, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing in the air that hinted to anything unusual that would actually be taking place all over the world. Mrs Dursley kissed her husband goodbye and went inside as he opened the car door, straightening his tie to look perfect for work. He glanced out the window out of habit to see if the sprinklers were on, when he noticed the most peculiar thing – a small, stiff looking tabby cat reading a map. He shook his head angrily as an owl flew past the rear end of his car. Cats didn't read – it was just inspecting a stray piece of garbage it had found. There was nothing strange about that.

As he drove around the edge of town, though, he couldn't help but notice some other things he was sure he hadn't seen the day before, either. There were groups of people standing around in different colored cloaks, whispering excitedly about something. He decided abruptly that they must be collecting for something. Rolling down the window, he eased on the break peddle and prepared to ask what they were gathering donations for. His mouth slammed shut, though, as he caught a hint of what they were saying.

"-the Potters, do you really think-"

"-yes, their son, Harry-"

Mr Dursley stepped on the gas and cranked the steering wheel to the right. He stopped as suddenly as he had started the u-turn, however. What was he thinking? If he drove right back home and told Mrs Dursley about everything he had seen within the past hour, all that he would succeed in doing was making her angry. Besides, he couldn't confirm that anything strange was happening – Harry was a common name, there was probably some convention going on, and cats liked to look at things.

And that was that. He turned the wheel once more, and continued on his way to work, mind on drills and that slacker he was planning on firing that day.

The tabby cat watched impatiently as the man she had seen earlier drove his way back into the driveway late that night. She hopped up onto the window sill and contented herself with watching their every move, until, finally, they shut the lights off and she could see no more.

A sudden pop caused her to turn her head, and she narrowed her eyes angrily at the tall, old man who had suddenly appeared in the center of the street, holding what appeared to be a lighter. She watched as he flicked it once, twice, thrice, until all of the lights on the street had gone out, seemingly sucked into the small, silver object. The man, seemingly satisfied, nodded his bearded head and walked her way, smiling as he sat on the brick wall a few feet away.

"Professor McGonagall," he said in his wise voice, "I should have expected you to be here."

The cat twitched its ears slightly, surprised to be recognized for what she really was. She let out a low hiss of defeat, then, quite suddenly, was human again.

"What are you doing here?" She said angrily.

The old man, Dumbledore, smiled slightly in her direction.

"Why," he said, "I should be the one asking that question."

"I've heard you were going to be here," the women urged hurriedly, "and I've heard what everyone's been whispering and celebrating about all day. Is it true, Dumbledore? Is it true what they're saying?"

Dumbledore sat back sadly and looked her in the eyes.

"And what is it that they're saying?" he asked, taking a small package out of his pocket.

"That James and Lily Potter are dead!" Professor McGonagall burst out, "That You-Know-Who killed them, and tried to kill their son! They're _saying_, Dumbledore, that Harry Potter _survived_, and that You-Know-Who is nowhere to be found!"

She regarded him anxiously, tears in her eyes.

"Is it true? Please, Albus…"

The silver-haired man patted her on the back gently.

"I'm afraid so, Minerva, I'm afraid so…"

They sat there in silence for some time, until the rustling of Dumbledore opening the small package broke the lack of sound.

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?" he offered.

"A _what_?" Professor McGonagall glanced at the small, yellow sweet he was holding up, "No, thank you." She said coldly.

Dumbledore glanced at his watch quickly, then looked down the road.

"Hagrid's late." He stated.

Professor McGonagall looked at his watch to see the time, but couldn't understand how to make it out. Instead of numbers, there were twelve planets moving around the rim of the glass in a seemingly random pattern.

"And what exactly is Hagrid late for?"

A flock of owls suddenly rose up from a nearby tree, and a loud rumbling sound filled the night. Dumbledore watched sadly as an oversized motorbike landed on the ground a few houses away, and a gigantic, wild looking man began walking over with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

"He's here to bring Harry to his Aunt and Uncle's."

McGonagall rose quickly and protested, "_What_?! The people living _here_?! Oh, Albus, no! He won't be happy here! He won't know anything _about_ himself!!"

"'Ello, there, Dumbledore, McGonagall. I've brought young 'Arry 'ere."

"Thank you, Hagrid." Dumbledore said, taking the bundle of blankets and walking over to the front stairs of the Dursleys' house.

He placed a letter between the blue fabric and they each gave Harry Potter words and kisses of goodbye. A cold wind blew by faintly as Dumbledore set him down on the cement steps.

"It will be better for him if he grows up here. It is for his own good."

They left each in their own way, the child sitting alone in the silent night, unaware that his life was about to change drastically, and not for the better. He rubbed the scar on his forehead angrily in his sleep, as though it was bothering him, then rolled over and dreamt on.

Inky 

_Okay, so it's short. Bear with me! It was the first chapter! And that's also why it's not the greatest! But this is the first DH story that is going to be an ACTUAL story. The last one just sucked. SO…thanks! And review!_


	2. A Letter and the Snake

I never did get a chance to thank you all for the reviews you gave the first chapter...not the first chapter before this, but the one I replaced...yeah, well, thank you!!!! I had to switch it, though. Enjoy! Things will start becoming shorter and shorter, I think, just to tell you.

HP

Harry glared angrily in the direction of his Uncle Vernon. He really did hate him.

Whenever Dudley didn't want to do something, Harry had to do it. It was just the little things – clearing the table, getting a glass of water for Aunt Petunia, feeding the gerbil – but _still_. They all added up and in the end it was like several very large and tedious jobs that _he_ really didn't want to do either.

But he had to do it. He had no choice. They fed him, gave him a cupboard to sleep in and allowed him to go to school. It was Aunt Petunia who had changed his diapers when he was young, and Uncle Vernon who had bought him the few toys he had. He remembered this very well – they liked to remind him every few hours.

He trudged into the front room with a frustrated sigh and looked for the mail his uncle had told him to go and 'fetch.' _Honestly_, was he some sort of _dog_? They certainly treated him so.

Not for the first time in the past few years, Harry wondered what it would have been like if his parents _hadn't_ gotten into a car crash…or at least if he had had some decent relatives.

He picked up the mail and flipped through curiously. He liked to sometimes check what his aunt and uncle were going to receive before they got it. Perhaps he could reply to one of Aunt Marge's letters before Aunt Petunia began welcoming her graciously into the house for another weekend's stay.

Wouldn't she be surprised?

His hands suddenly stopped as he hit a rather odd sort of paper. He looked the material over carefully. It was odd, yellow, and seemingly rather weatherworn, as though it hadn't come via truck, but by someone running for miles with it held up high in the air. He flipped it over to look at the back, where there was a large, red, seal covering the lip of the envelope. It said…

"Boy! What's taking so long?"

Quickly he slipped the letter into his hand-me-down jeans pocket. He made his way back into the kitchen and set the rest of the mail on the table.

"Here you are." He said.

Uncle Vernon glared in his direction a little longer than he normally would have, and then averted his attention to the bills.

A few moments passed, and, when Dudley opened his mouth to speak, Uncle Vernon suddenly said, "So, boy, you're turning eleven in a few weeks?"

"Yes." Harry said curiously. They never mentioned his birthday before hand. What was so different that year?

His uncle grunted and looked at Aunt Petunia.

HP

Harry had completely forgotten about the letter until he went to change into his pyjamas that night. He checked the pockets for anything he might of found outside that day and left neglected, and, sure enough, touch the rough paper he had been examining earlier.

Making sure the door was locked, he turned the envelope over in his hand and lay back on his sheets, half naked. His eyes were once again drawn to the great, wax patch in the middle of the paper, and could just read out the letters…H-O-G-W-A-R-T-S. Hog warts? What the hell?

Confused, he turned it over once more, determined to find out who had sent this. It was obviously someone important – no one used seals anymore.

Unfortunately, though, Harry found no return address. Disappointed at the thought that it might just be some sort of fancy invitation for Aunt Petunia, his eyes flickered over the centre writing…

He had to do a double take.

Harry Potter

He took his glasses off and tried to read it again, but, quite obviously, couldn't, and so decided to just open it up and see what sort of prank this was. Surely it was from one of Dudley's friends?

He stopped just as his fingers brushed up against the seal, though. If he needed to, would he be able to seal it again without ruining the shape of the wax?…Probably, he hoped, or he could take it off and just lick it shut. Yes, that would work perfectly…or, if it didn't...he'd figure something out.

With practised hands, Harry opened the letter without ripping any edges. He pulled the paper from inside, and began reading...

When he was done, he read it again.

And again.

And again.

He read it over until every letter had burned its way into his memory. It was the most convincing prank he had ever received - if indeed it was a prank. But was it? It would have to be...it just didn't make sense...but it did!

He looked at the front of the envelope once more.

_The Cupboard Beneath the Stairs_, it said. Dudley's friends didn't know he slept under the stairs. Aunt Petunia let him sleep in the spare room whenever they came over, so that their parents wouldn't find out. They slept over so often, though, that Harry wondered why she didn't just let him keep it.

So then it couldn't be Dudley's friends...

Harry rolled off the bed and decided to do something rather daring, even for him:

Confront the Dursleys.

HP

"You _what_?!" Uncle Vernon's half asleep look immediately fell away.

"I received a letter from-"

"No!" his face flared red, "No, you did _not_ receive a letter! There were no letters to you that _I_ saw!"

"Yes, I know. I put the letter in the room after I saw it was mine." Harry lied.

Aunt Petunia watched them from the bed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Uncle Vernon stood with the door wide open, but his hand was at the ready to slam it shut at any time. Harry stood just a little away - he didn't want to get whacked in the face if his uncle _did_ decide to close it.

"Anyway," he said quickly, " I was wondering if you knew who it was from? See, it says here...'Hogwarts,' but I didn't know who...so I thought..." he was fumbling with the letter, trying to pull it out from the envelope once more.

"H-hogwarts?" Uncle Vernon squeaked feebly. Harry saw his face pale considerably at he glanced at his wife, whose mouth was open in shock.

A little exchange went through the two of them silently.

"Great!" Harry smiled and shifted contentedly, "So you know them?"

The door slammed shut two inches from his nose.

HP

A few days later found Harry all alone at the zoo, the Dursleys all gone off a few cages down to check out the other reptiles. Dudley was bored of snakes.

Leaning his head tiredly on the railing, Harry reminisced on the 'conversations' Uncle Vernon had had with him the past few times they had talked. He seemed quite determined to remind Harry that there was no such thing as magic, and that things like that went through the mail all the time. He told him not to go outside after dark (not that he was allowed to, anyway), and explained to him what a stalker was, and that some stranger had probably been following him for awhile, and was trying to lure him out to a secluded spot so that he could kidnap him for a ransom.

Had Harry believed any of this, though, he would have been over with the Dursleys looking at the chameleons. But he wasn't, of course. No, he was leaning over the railing quite a ways away, with his forehead pressed up against the glass of a…(he glanced over at the sign) Brazilian adder's cage.

He looked over at the snake wearily, who was staring back at him with a rather similar expression.

"I know how you feel, buddy." He said with a slight smile.

The snake suddenly shot its head up, staring at him with a suddenly anxious look.

"You can _speak_!"

It took a moment for Harry to register the fact that it was the snake that had said this.

"Oh _Merlin_, yes! You can _speak_!"

"Wha-?" Harry gaped stupidly.

"Finally! Someone to hear my pleas! Get me out! Please, sweet boy, get me the hell _out_ of here!"

Recovering quickly, Harry glared at the snake.

"How are you talking?"

It looked at him with an expression that made him feel stupid.

"The same way you are, wizard - the language of the snakes. _You_, my dear wizard, are a Parseltongue."

"You sure know a lot for being bred in captivity." his glare intensified.

"And you little, for being what you are."

They stood there for a while, staring each other down, when Harry suddenly broke into a very large grin.

"Have you ever heard of a place called Hogwarts?"

The snake hissed slightly, and rested his head on the rock below him.

"I'll tell you all about Hogwarts, if you let me out of this damned prison."

"Deal!" Harry exclaimed, "But you go first."

"Okay…well,"

And the snake ranted on for a very long time, Harry stopping him every once in a while for a question or two. He learned about everything he had never known: wizards and witches, Quidditch, wands, magical creatures, Hogwarts, classes, curses, laws, charmed candy, purebloods, squibs, half bloods, giants, how the wizards hid everything from the 'muggles', and what was going on with the magical half of the world as of late.

"Nothing really interesting has been happening lately, what with the fall of Nagini's master a while back…"

"Nagini's master?" Harry interrupted, "Who's that?"

The snake gave him a look.

"Voldemort…a very famous dark wizard…went bad a long time ago…everyone was afraid to say his name…_beautiful_ snake, he has…beautiful, I tell you…"

"'Was'?" Harry urged, "What happened to him?"

"Well, you know how it goes," the snake yawned, "He heard that there was some boy – don't remember his name – that was going to grow up to be even more powerful than him, so, of course, he went after him…killed his family…he seemed to like doing that, killing. Anyways, yes, he went to kill the boy, too, but when he shot the curse, something happened that no one could explain. You see, Voldemort vanished, and the boy got off with nothing but a scratch to his forehead." He slithered around slightly, "Or that's what I heard, anyway. Aren't we getting a little off topic? I mean, I really could use a-"

Suddenly, a great big booming voice called from nowhere, "Where the bloody hell have you been, boy?!"

Harry turned to see a very angry Uncle Vernon puffing back at him.

"Looking at the snakes." He said, with an obvious gesture to the Brazilian adder.

"And what have I been telling you for the past few days?"

"I'm perfectly able to take care of myself, thank you very much." Harry growled indignantly.

Dudley laughed evilly from beside him.

"_I_ think we should lock him up in the cupboard for a few days!" he declared loudly, leaning on the glass to the cage.

Uncle Vernon nodded appreciatively.

Harry glared intensely over at his spoiled cousin, willing someone to just come over and whack him hard in the head with something solid, or push him into the fountain, or kick his fat ass through the glass, or…or…_anything_.

And suddenly the glass didn't even exist.

Dudley fell over into the nasty swamp water beside the rock that the snake was resting on. The adder jumped up in glee, suddenly, and began making its way out of the cage. It slithered as fast as it could away, stopping only to whisper a quick, 'thankss' to Harry, and vanished out of the reptile house. Dudley stood up quickly, but couldn't stay standing with all the slippery moss beneath his feet.

Harry tried to hide his laughter, he really did, but a smile still made its way onto his face.

"BOY!"

The next few days Harry spent in his cupboard.

ITB

Okay, so that's my next chapter! Hope it was alright – don't worry, he'll meet Draco soon, by the way. So…review! Bye!


	3. Alley of Shadows

"Why are_ you _all dressed up?"

Harry sat down at his usual seat with a huge grin. He was wearing the only outfit he had that fit him – a green t-shirt and faded dark blue jeans.

"Why, Hagrid is taking me shopping today."

Uncle Vernon shot up in his seat.

"_WHAT_?"

"You read the letter." Harry said happily, pouring himself a glass of milk, "He didn't really give a specific time, though…"

And then his uncle exploded, face turning purple and words coming out so fast that Harry didn't even bother to stop and listen. Today was going to be the best day of his life, he knew. He could feel it – everything was going to change.

"ANSWER ME, YOU IMBECILE!!!"

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" Harry said happily.

"WHAT gave YOU THE idea THAT MAGIC exISTS?" he sounded like he was having trouble keeping his voice down.

"Someone informed me." He smiled, "Oh, I can't wait until I go to Hogwarts! My friend said that Hufflepuff is the worst house, because everyone takes them for fools. He told me not to make that mistake. Personally, I don't think I'll be getting in Ravenclaw. I'm not really that educated on magic, so I was thinking either Gryffindor or Slytherin…he told me they're both really great, but he said that this weird hat thing chooses for us, so…"

He dove into his breakfast hungrily, scarfing down the pancakes and sausages while occasionally throwing a glance at the door.

Suddenly, Aunt Petunia burst out, "_Slytherin_-" but quickly covered her mouth.

Uncle Vernon gaped blankly at Harry, not seeming to have heard her, being so shocked to hear Harry actually _talking_ to them…and being so cheeky.

"I had the greatest dream last night," Harry declared between mouthfuls, "I was sorted into Gryffindor, and I met tons of people on the first day, and I had so many friends, and it was snowing…well, I know it's not going to be snowing in September, but, well…"

There was a loud knocking sound from the front entrance that made the teacups clink together. Harry jumped up from his chair and went running down the hall. He flung open the door and smiled brightly up at the person who stood there.

His smile opened into a gape, though, as his eyes trailed over the person in front of him. He stood about twice the height of Harry, with hands the size of garbage can lids, and a tangled black beard. His smile shone through his eyes, and Harry had an odd warming sensation, as though he was seeing a long time friend for the first time in years.

"Alright, there, 'Arry? I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys at Hogwarts. I'm 'ere ter take yeh shoppin' fer yer school things."

"Er – okay," Harry quickly collected himself, calling back into the house, "Bye!"

A goofy smile suddenly plastered itself to his face. He was going to have so much fun! But wait! Where was he to get the money?

"Erm…Hagrid?" he asked cautiously, "I don't have any money…"

"Why o' course yeh do!" Hagrid laughed jollily, "I have a few things ter tell yeh on our way the London, 'Arry. I don't know how much yeh know, so it might take a little while yet."

And he began to tell Harry the same story the snake had about the boy with the scar, but, this time, Harry was the main character.

HP

Harry gaped openly at the streets of Diagon Alley. Hagrid walked smiling beside him with an expression that said he knew exactly what was going on through the young boy's mind.

"I-I need to sit down." Harry said suddenly, plopping down on a nearby bench. He closed his eyes tightly and let all the dizziness wash over him that he had been feeling for the past little while.

He had had a clue…just a little one…about who he was when the adder had spoken with him, but…he glanced back at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron – he hadn't really known even half of it…and everything else…the magic, the people, the…the sugar had been putting itself in the cups! The _sugar_! He held his head in his hands, waiting for the overwhelming feeling to pass through him.

He had never wanted anything more in his life than what he had been given just a little while ago…but he had gotten even more…He sure as hell didn't like how everyone stared at him so intensely, but…well, he could deal with it…just imagine, magic! He had known…He had _known_! There had been this little tiny voice in the back of his head, screaming, 'Magic!' every time he did something strange…

And now…now…now, it was like, 'Oh yeah!!! Who was right?! Who was _right_? _ME_! Oh _yeah_!"

And Harry felt so happy. There was this odd filling feeling in his chest, as though his heart was going to burst from his ribcage with all the happiness it was filled with. He had never felt such a feeling before…

But then…what if no one liked him? What if he didn't live up to their expectations? What if…

When he looked up at Hagrid, it was with a determined expression.

"Let's go." He said.

"Alright, then. Firs' stop, Gringotts, the wizard bank. Yeh gots ter get a bit o' money fer yer school things, and I gots ter pick up somethin' fer Dumbledore."

HP

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin got off the cart steadily, heading over to the huge door of the vault without bothering to grab the lantern. He slid his finger down the crack, and Harry watched eagerly as the door began to open. What could possibly be so important that Hagrid was not allowed to share the information with Harry? Thoughts swarmed through his head – visions of magical weapons, and mounds of sacred treasure…jewels the size of his fist…something powerful…something great…

But when the door had opened as much as it could, what Harry saw gave him quite a surprise - the only thing that lay there was a small, roughly wrapped package. He tried to get a more decent view, but Hagrid's body blocked his line of sight. He sat back in the cart, wondering, wondering…

HP

With Hagrid gone to go pick take care of some business he hadn't gone into much detail about, Harry was left to go see Mr. Ollivander on his own. He called a faint 'hullo' into the shop, and waited for someone to come tend to him.

The man who came around the corner was nothing like what Harry was expecting. He had wiry, white hair and watery, blue eyes. He looked slightly insane.

"Ah," he said, looking Harry over very closely, "I was wondering when you were going to arrive."

Harry eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes, young boy, I know who you are. Your parents bought their wands from me, also. I remember it like it was yesterday…ah, you look just like your father, m' boy, but you've your mother's eyes…" he stood there for a moment longer, before he vanished behind the large pile of boxes to go look for something.

He came back no less than two seconds later, holding a small box in one hand and a long, thin piece of wood in the other. He handed the stick to Harry and looked at him patiently, waiting for him to do something.

Unsure of what to do, Harry gave the object a feeble flick. The sheets on the counter burst into flames, and Mr. Ollivander had to use his own wand to put it out.

"No, not that one." He mumbled slightly, and then vanished again into the back.

About ten wands and many broken objects later, the wand seller returned not only with a wand, but with a troubled look as well. He handed the object to Harry, but watched with a curious expression and a scrutinizing glare.

The Boy-Who-Lived squinted slightly as he flicked his wand this time, fearful of what he might do, but what happened didn't inflict any damage. A sort of silver mist emerged out of the end of his wand, wrapping around the entire room in mere seconds and blocking everything from view.

"Curious…" he could hear the shop owner whispering over and over, "Very curious…"

Harry squinted through the fog.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked loudly.

"No," Mr. Ollivander said softly, "I just find it strange that _you_ should be the one destined for that particular wand. You see, m' boy, the phoenix that produced the tail feather for the core of that wand happened to produce another. And it just so happens that the one in possession of your wand's brother, is none other than the wizard who gave you your scar."

Harry's hand shot to his forehead.

"Voldemort," he said, as his mind began to wander…

HP

The day went by much too quickly for Harry, who was honestly having the time of his life out on this little shopping trip. He had grabbed a little more money than Hagrid had advised, and bought a few more things than that on his shopping list. He couldn't help it, though, really! All those books…and he hadn't ever seen real magic before, never mind been able to perform it! So a few more books of spells…well, what could be the harm? He bought some extra potions books, as well. The subject sounded like it was going to be really great…oh, and Quidditch! Another month of staying at the Dursley's would be nothing with his books!

"Alrigh', then, 'Arry, 'ere's yer ticket ter get yeh back ter the Dursleys…" Hagrid handed him a small, folded piece of paper, "I won' be goin' with yeh, yeh see. Gots some Hogwarts business I have ter take care o'." he patted the pocket where the small package was hidden.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes caught a small, dark alley he had missed before. It seemed rather out of place in a market where all of the shops touched, and he wondered briefly if someone had put it there purposely.

"Hagrid," he asked suddenly, "What's in that alley?"

The large man looked over to where Harry was pointing, but quickly looked away, his steps lengthening so Harry had to jog to keep up.

"Nothin', 'Arry. Don't yeh worry abou' tha' place. Ah! I almos' fergot," he handed another little note to him, "'ere's yer ticket fer getting' ter Hogwarts. Yeh follow those directions carefully, yeh hear?"

Harry looked down suspiciously at the large, bold letters that had been printed across the top of the train ticket, and turned to inquire the strange numbers to Hagrid.

Only Hagrid wasn't there – he had disappeared into thin air.

Harry began walking towards the train station, dragging his feet in thought, recalling his day, remembering every moment, savouring every single little thing he'd gotten to see, hear…experience…

He suddenly remembered that one book that Hagrid wouldn't allow him to buy: _Advanced Spells And Counter Curses_. He'd been fine with it until he'd read the back, which explained just a few of the wonderful everyday spells to use against any possible annoyances…well, there was probably still some time…

He quickly looked down at his train ticket and decided that he had ten minutes before the train actually left the station. He turned abruptly in his path, mind set, and sprinted as fast as he could to _Flourish and Botts_. Quickly grabbing the book and paying for it at the cash, he made it out of the store with seven minutes to spare.

By then, of course, he was panting heavily and leaning on his knees to make sure he didn't tumble over and fall flat on his face. He began his casual walk to the train station once more, this time with a deep satisfaction that he couldn't really explain but for being happy he had gotten the book. He walked on for a while, humming to himself, watching the clocks carefully, when suddenly his feet brought him to an abrupt halt.

It took him a moment to realize why exactly this had happened. He was standing, once more, in front of that dark alley, staring down into the endless depths of it that seemed to lead on forever.

_I wonder…_he thought, but his thoughts were suddenly halted by a sharp movement down in the darkness.

He began walking foreword, but he knew that he couldn't keep going that way. He had a train to catch, a place to go. He had to go see the Dursleys and ask them to take him to King's Cross on September first. He had books to read and things to study, no time to waste and no explanation if Hagrid found out that he had missed his train and had to take another.

_No…_a voice suddenly said in his head, _you're wrong. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Look down, Harry. Look at what you just did. Look at what you just _bought_. You're free, Harry. You can make your own decisions now…_

And suddenly, an enormous weight was lifted from his chest.

_I'm free. Free, free, free..._

His feet blasted him down the alley with a sudden burst of speed, going further, further into the darkness until he could make out shapes of buildings, movement of people, and a big, rickety sign that said, _Knockturn Alley_.

His running jarred to a stop as he bumped into someone, _hard_.

"I-I'm sorry-" he said, but stopped when he saw the person's face, angry beyond explanation, eyes rolled into the back of her head, and already pulling her wand out of her coat pocket. Harry cried out in fear, and ran all the way out to the train station, pale as a ghost.

ITB

Okay, then! I think I'm going to start putting author's notes AFTER the chapters, instead of both. Thank you VERY much for the reviews! I'm not going to reply to them for fear of getting kicked off, but thank you very, very much! Now, I know this chapters pretty odd and confusing, and repetitive, but don't worry. Next chapter, and just the important things start. And also, next chapter, he meets Draco. None of the REAL HD will start in the first year, just to tell you all, as a warning, but everything starts here, so…anyways, I'm going to shut up now. REVIEW! I'll write faster.


	4. Draco Malfoy Here and Gone

Sitting up brightly with his glasses polished and repaired sitting on his nose, Harry watched in awe as objects flew left and right, cushions fell into his lap, and socks smacked into the door to his compartment. He laughed brightly as the room filled up with a blinding white light, and one of the chocolate frog wrappers in front of him turned into a green piece of parchment. Magic was wonderful, he had decided. Every spell he had tried had worked, and he was rather amazed at what he could do with his wand. He only wished he had a bit of water with him, so that he could try and turn it to rum…

Carefully aiming for the window of the door, he raised another cushion into the air and sent it flying towards it. Unfortunately, though, at that very moment, someone had decided to grace him with a visit to his compartment, and it whacked him full in the face.

Whoever it was gasped, and nearly fell back, but for the door that slammed behind him.

"Oh – er…sorry!" Harry said, face flushed in embarrassment, "I was…practising magic…and, well…"

The boy removed the pillow from his face, giving Harry a full view of him. His eyes were a bright blue, and his robes were rather tattered, but what stood out the most was the blinding red colour of his hair.

"Don't worry about it, mate!" he said cheerfully, plopping down opposite Harry with a large smile, "So, who are you? I'm Ron Weasley!" he paused, then looked down, "Or did you already guess…"

Harry gave him a confused look, "No – er – should I have?"

Ron shook his head quickly, "No," he said, "Never mind. It's just, you see…well, what's your name, anyway?"

"Harry Potter. I'm pleased to-"

"Blimey! You're Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?!"

"Are there others?" Harry asked wearily.

"Do you…can I see the scar?"

Harry sighed, but pulled back his fringe nonetheless.

"Wow…"

When Harry had finally managed to pull the conversation away from him and onto something else, another boy decided to visit the compartment, too.

He opened the door, and leaned in slightly, white blond hair falling next to his eyes. Harry couldn't see the colour from where he was sitting.

"Do you mind if I join you two?" he asked, with a slightly empty expression.

When Ron said nothing, Harry gestured to the seat beside him and said, "Not at all!"

The boy sat down gracefully and looked Ron over with that same vacant expression and half-closed eyes.

"Weasley," he nodded to him, and Harry saw nothing wrong with the way he said it, but Ron immediately snapped.

"Yeah! And what of it?!" he yelled.

Harry jumped a little, wondering what the hell had gotten to him, and when he looked back at the blond boy, a disapproving sneer was set on his face.

"It was just a greeting!" he growled, and got up to leave, but Harry stopped him, mind spinning with confusion.

"No! Don't leave! What's – why are you two fighting?"

"Because he's a Malfoy!" Ron snapped unfairly.

The Malfoy snorted and left the compartment, but Harry stopped him once more just outside the door.

"Why can't we all be friends?" he blurted, looking at both of them in turn, wondering how he could improve the situation.

"I-"

"He's a _Malfoy_!" Ron yelled again, as though it explained everything.

When Malfoy turned away for the third time, Harry stuck his hand out on a whim and nearly screamed, "I'm Harry Potter! Nice to meet you!"

Though the boy did give him an odd look, he still took his hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, and bowed his head a little, "I'll see you around."

For a moment, Harry contemplated following him down the hall, but he decided against it, and clambered back into his seat. He stayed silent, watching Ron fume, and he tried to think up what to say to figure out what was wrong. He tried to find the right words to make Ron rethink what he said. They could all be friends, he knew. It would take time, but he knew that they would get along just fine.

They had to, for his sake.

HP

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry ignored the whispers and stares as he made his way up to the stool. Every step he took made the little rickety chair seem further away, his feet becoming heavier, heavier, heavier…until he was sure they had turned to lead. He sat down stiffly and looked at all the eyes that were watching him.

Gryffindor…Ron was going to go to Gryffindor with his brothers.

And Draco sat with the Slytherins.

He wondered if he'd end up with one of them, or if he would go off to one of the other Houses. Or what if they kicked him out? What if he wasn't powerful enough to stay?

A slight shiver ran through his body as the stern looking Professor McGonagall placed the shabby old hat on his head. He waited a moment, stiff as a board, until the hat began to talk.

"Hmmm…yes, you are a rather hard choice…intelligent, brave, loyal, but you have a real thirst to prove yourself. You could be cunning, too, and yes, oh, yes, you've got some power! I thinking you'd do well in…"

Harry suddenly remembered that dream he had had – the one where he had been sorted into Gryffindor, and he had been so, so happy. For a moment he had the strange, overpowering urge to go to Gryffindor, and the hat seemed to sense it, for it said,

"_Gryffindor!"_ Harry froze, _"Why would you want to go there? Slytherin is a good House – a _very_ good house! You'd be happy there. You'd fit in! Are you sure you want to go to Gryffindor?"_

But he couldn't choose. The dream, it had been so happy. He had been having so much fun…

And suddenly that memory was replaced with the one where had had been sitting with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, and he had decided in that moment that he was going to befriend everyone he met, no matter what they treated him like, no matter who they were.

But the Slytherins didn't like the Gryffindors, and the Gryffindors didn't like the Slytherins. Maybe he should be in Hufflepuff, he thought miserably.

"I don't care," he whispered to the hat, "Choose for me."

And the hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" which echoed through the silent Hall, following Harry to his table, where he sat beside Draco and waited until, finally, the clapping started.

Harry half expected to turn to his side and find Draco not looking at him, bored with the whole thing. He gave off that kind of impression, Harry found, as though nothing at all seemed to faze him. But when he looked around, there Draco was, staring at him with his, usual, half-eyed stare that didn't seem so vacant anymore.

He could feel Ron glaring right through him, straight at the blond boy.

HP

The next day, classes were, well, _interesting_, to say the least. Almost every subject he had was split with the Gryffindors, who sat on the other side of the classroom. Harry found himself sitting with Ron more often than not, because Draco didn't talk that much, and preferred to read while the teacher was talking, while Ron liked to write notes back and forth.

After classes, Harry tried to convince them both to go for a walk around the school, but Ron wouldn't go if Draco did, and Draco answered with a flat out, "No."

So Harry and Ron went alone, strolling around the lake for a while, then going inside to explore the corridors when the wind got too cold and the sky started to darken. They met up with a girl named Hermione at one point, who followed them around and interrogated them until finally, they went back to their own common rooms. It was almost curfew, anyway.

HP

The next morning brought more surprises than Harry had been expecting. He took his usual place beside Draco, and began filling up his plate when the blond boy suddenly spoke up.

"Someone broke into Gringotts, did you hear?" he played with his food as he spoke, not taking his eyes off his plate, "Vault seven thirteen."

Harry looked at him for a moment, before realization dawned on him.

"Hey!" he said, startling Draco into looking at him, "That's the vault Hagrid took the funny little package out of…that's odd…"

They ate in silence like they usually did, afterwards, but when Draco got up to leave he spoke once more.

"Oh, and, flying lessons are this Monday after classes, by the way."

He turned to leave, but Harry caught him by the wrist.

"Hey, wait for me, okay? We could go for a walk around the school, or something."

"Are you sure? I thought you'd be doing something with Weasley."

"Yes, well, he can come, if he wants. If not, that's his problem."

Draco sat down and waited.

HP

Harry had, at one point, come to the conclusion that Draco had grown up and stopped being a child before the age of eleven. He barely talked, he read more often than not, and he just wasn't…well, he never laughed, or did anything like that.

But when they both set out to explore the castle after breakfast, it was Draco who took Harry's hand and ran through the doors, Draco who chose what staircases to take, and Draco who couldn't seem to stop smiling, a giggle escaping his lips every once in a while.

"Hey! Slow down!" Harry laughed, running up a set of stairs in this crazy tower of staircases that moved everywhere. Draco was a few steps up, but stopped to wait when he heard him.

"Let's go over there." He pointed to a dark hallway, and so they went.

It was only when they were halfway down it did they realize where exactly they were. It was Draco who noticed it first.

"Oh, no." he said, halting in his tracks, "We're not supposed to be here."

Harry didn't know what he was talking about, but he allowed Draco to turn him back the way they came, nonetheless.

"Mrs. Norris!" Draco suddenly squeaked, and Harry noticed the cat for the first time, sitting there and watching them with a little cat-smirk on its face.

"I'm going to tell on you," it seemed to say.

They ran.

Where the hallway ended, though, there was only a locked door. Harry opened it with a spell, and they slipped in, quietly, never taking their eyes off the hallway.

They stood there and waited for about ten minutes, listening to Filch come and go. They didn't dare talk, afraid their voices might carry down the halls. A hot breath began to pant on Harry's neck, and he tried to ignore it as best as he could, but it was making him sticky and soon it was all he could think about.

"Draco," he whispered, "Could you stop breathing on my neck?"

He turned around to glare for added effect, but it wasn't Draco who had been doing it.

No, it was a large, three headed dog.

Harry grabbed yanked Draco out of the room with him, and they ran as fast as they could, not knowing where they were going, and not really caring. They stopped only when they ran into Ron, who stood there, red in the face, angry beyond belief.

"Oh my god, Ron, we just ran into a three headed dog!"

Ron seemed too angry to hear, though, and all of his attention was directed on Draco.

"What were _you_ doing wandering the castles with Harry?"

A slight flush crept onto Draco's cheeks, but he remained calm, his eyes empty once more.

"We were just exploring."

Harry held his breath.

"And why wasn't I invited?"

"You were with him yesterday. What does it matter?"

Ron lashed out.

"What does it matter? WHAT DOES IT MATTER? HARRY, YOU CAN'T HANG OUT WITH MALFOY! HIS ENTIRE FAMILY IS MESSED UP! THEY'LL CHANGE YOU, HARRY! THEY'RE WITH YOU-KNOW-WHO!!!"

Harry turned to Draco, tears in his eyes, wanting to ask him if this was true, but he was already halfway down the hall.

Once more, he did not follow.

ITB

Was that too rushed? I think that was too rushed. But I tried my best, so…

Anyway, yeah, so…there. He met Draco, everything's good…or, not so good. There will be some Ron bashing, I imagine, if it's not in the first story, somewhere, there will be tons in his fourth year. If you want me to get there, though, I'll need reviews. Oh, yeah, and that reminds me! Thanks SO MUCH for the reviews!

But I want some more.

Okay, then…anyways, the first year's not going to be too long. I'm running out of inspiration for this year.


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